


Letter of Apology

by thehavenofourdreams



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehavenofourdreams/pseuds/thehavenofourdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanschen writes a letter to Ernst after making the biggest mistake of his life, but can he be forgiven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letter of Apology

**Author's Note:**

> My first Spring Awakening work, hopefully people like this. I'm not too sure about my characterization of Hanschen but I enjoyed writing it and decided to post it anyway. Any feedback or kudos would be great :D In my head I always picture Andy Mientus and Ben Moss as my Hanschen and Ernst. Anyway, please enjoy and I have some idea for a sequel if anyone is interested.

Ernst

We’ve always been close. I suppose that’s what happens when you grow up in a small village like we did. I can’t remember if everyone was truly friends or that kind of friendship that only comes about when parents thrust their kids together with their friend’s kids and tell them to go play. I can’t remember the games of ring a ring a roses we supposedly played with the girls, or that time Melchior got chewing gum stuck in Wendla’s hair then said it was all her fault. When you tell me about these things it is as though I am hearing it for the first time even though I lived through it. But I remember you, even then.

What we had was the real kind of friendship. The one where you share cookies and don’t even mind if I got the small half (if Melchior had got the bigger bit I would have swapped it when he was too busy teaching Moritz how to spell his name and not even felt the tiniest bit guilty). You were the one I wanted to spend time with. Little Ernst always skipping and laughing trying to be nice to everyone. I do remember pushing Anna over once so she grazed her knee. I only remember because you were so angry at me. While I laughed at her teary ears and snotty nose you ran over to her and told her it was okay, only looking away to glare at me. You were so mad you even told the teacher what I had done which just was not the done thing. No one grassed, but you did because your morals were everything to you, still are. I would never have done it if I knew you wouldn’t speak to me for the whole afternoon. I confess that night I shed a few tears as I truly believed you would never speak to me again. My mother was understanding giving me a kiss on the forehead trying to soothe me with loving lies. Well what I thought to be lies. I needn’t have worried as the next morning you sat next to me as if nothing had happened.

You were as forgiving as you were loving and I was the opposite, even as a child. Some thought me cruel but my mother insisted I never really meant it and my father encouraged it, said it showed maturity in a child. I didn’t mean to be cruel not truly but I had discovered that if you hit first the pain never did hurt as much if someone retaliated, which inevitably they did. You spent half your time defending me and I never thanked you. Sorry about that. Then again I didn’t thank you for so much and I have done too much to be excused. Sorry just isn’t enough.

I got worse in high school.

I don’t know how you stuck with me, honestly I don’t. Those awkward years of self-discovery and self-hatred. Yes even I the great Hanschen Rilow hated myself for a while. I guess I still do sometimes. Especially when I hurt you, but that’s skipping ahead of myself - of us. I don’t know what I’m getting at really Ernst other than it was always me and you. Perhaps not in the way that is was always Melchior and Moritz or Martha and Anna. They were inseparable and hardly ever seen apart. We weren’t quite like that. We didn’t see each other every day and didn’t frequent each other’s houses as much as when we were younger but in every way that counted it was you and me.

You were the only one I wanted to spend time with. The one who could get a proper laugh out of me, not the pretend ones I used daily to fulfil the societal standards I adhered to. I tried so hard to fit in and be normal but it never worked because the anger I felt at knowing I had to pretend was always there and spilled out at the most inopportune moments. You’d have thought I’d have a better handle over my emotions than in primary school but I didn’t, which is perhaps less surprising considering I didn’t believe I had any. I was wrong.

I suppose I always thought you were beautiful in a strange way. Even back in primary school I caught myself staring. I realised from a young age I was interested in girls but boys were just as attractive. It confused me at first but I never spoke of it and I realised later this was a good thing. My father would never understand and the Church would have condemned me. I never understood your devotion to such a morally corrupt establishment when your own were so pure yet I respected your decision and often wondered if you ever even realised the hypocrisy of the Church. I wasn’t going to tell you. I wanted you to stay strong in your belief, I thought if you lost that you may become as cynical as me and I couldn’t bare that.

By the time I was 15 I had somehow acquired the reputation as being a player. Or a whore as Otto once jokingly called me. I never let on how much that stung instead giving back on offhand quip about the rather perverse sexual dream he once had about his mother he had confided to me once. His red face was rather entertaining although the lost look on his face suggested he had no idea why I’d told his secret, he really had no idea I wasn’t blindly cruel, I only lashed out in anger. I remember you scolded me for that too. Truth be told though I had never slept with anyone at this point. I had enough offers, male and female, and kissed many but never slept with them. Somehow though when they told their friends they always without fail elaborated taking us much further in their imagination than had ever happened in reality to impress their friends. I always thought you knew this was a lie but you didn’t. That didn’t just sting it felt like a knife wound straight to the heart but I didn’t even get the reprieve of death. But again I’m fast forwarding.

Our first kiss happened in the middle of exam season. I know I have the worst timing I’m sorry. This kiss was so different to any other I had shared because it meant something, even if I denied it - even to myself. I knew you were gay for the longest time but you only had the courage to tell me when we got drunk that time at Thea’s. You had never been drunk before and it was adorable. You were the same cute, funny, klutzy Ernst but on crack. You giggled in a corner and danced with me despite neither of us being able to walk straight. My heart ached with longing. Then you dragged me to the bathroom and told me you needed to tell me something.

I remember you cried when you finally told me suddenly more sober than before and I hugged you hiding your head in my shoulder. I couldn’t bear to see you cry. I told you I liked guys and girls then and you hiccupped softly telling me you knew. Of course you knew. For some reason it made me cry but you didn’t mention anything and we just clung together both crying great ugly tears with snot and spit and everything. It was not pretty and we never mentioned it ever again but that moment is so precious to me because you confided in me when I knew it meant so much to you. I knew how much the Catholic in you hated yourself but believe me darling you are perfect. This was months before exams and I didn’t know how you felt about me then.

We started dating in secret because I didn’t want my father to find out. You were scared of people finding out you were gay as well but you got more and more frustrated living a lie. You wanted to tell people because finally after years of struggle you had come to terms with your sexuality and religion. I was truly happy for you even if I never said it but I begged you to be quiet because I was still so damn scared. Of what I don’t really know. Most people believed the lies about me and the rumours weren’t just about women. It’s just my father. He is such a dominating and controlling man. He does not believe in homosexuality or bisexuality and he would never forgive me if he found out. I don’t know why I craved his love so much but I did. Even though I didn’t have it even without him knowing the truth. Ironically I guess I don’t care any more.

You cared enough to wait for me though. You didn’t push me and you kept my secret even when you finally told yours. I was grateful when our friends accepted you because you needed it so badly. Perhaps you didn’t even realise you needed it until they freely gave you that gift. In that moment I loved each and every one of them for making you so happy.

Happiness doesn’t last forever though.

At least not in my experience. I was no longer a virgin at this point and neither were you. We had been dating for a year and the rumour mill about me and my so called sexual exploits had been quiet for as long as we were dating. That is why I was so amused when Bobby fucking Mahler said I’d slept with him. I confess I had a crush on him but that was years ago when I was young and confused. No one in their right might would give you up for him. It’s a shame I only see that now huh.

I honestly had no idea you had believed those rumours before we got together, I suppose I should have seen it coming really though. You always were so gullible. You were crying when I found you. I tried to touch your shoulder but you shrugged me off. Immediately warning bells were blaring at me and the next words you spoke more than broke my heart, shattering it, tearing it obliterating it until all the remained was pain and warped anger.

“If you were really so unhappy Hansi all you had to do was tell me. You didn’t have to humiliate me by sleeping with Bobby. I can’t even hate him because no one knows about us. Oh god I knew I wasn’t the only one before we started dating but I didn’t realise there were others when we were. Is that the real reason why you wouldn’t let me tell anyone?”

The accusations from others meant nothing but the fact you believed them crushed me and in those few seconds all I could think was that the bond I thought we shared must have been imagined if you didn’t know how much I love you. I was so shocked I said nothing I just stared. Then I got up off my knees turned around and left you hunched over in the bathroom stall at school. From the increased sobs behind me I suppose my silence was a sign of guilt for you. It wasn’t. Not then. I swear it.

I was so hurt, cut right to the bone and beyond. Your lack of faith in me was the single most painful thing I had ever experienced. And I was angry. I had told you everything, barring the three little words that I showed through every other gesture and whispered truth about myself. I was furious you believed a rumour over the relationship I thought was so strong. I was not thinking clearly and I had an unfortunate history of lashing out when I was angry. I was so stupid.

I texted Bobby Mahler and told him to meet me at my house.

He did.

We fucked.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

I’m not angry any more. Well not at you. I could tell you every cliché every cheater has ever said and then some because it’s all true but that won’t mean a thing to you. It did mean nothing. I do love you. I never said it in words before and I guess that’s just another regret to add to the long list of Hanschen Rilow’s many failings.

I understand why you won’t return my texts. Or calls. Or Facebook messages. Or Skype requests. Or snapchats. I do, but I still hold out hope.

I know you only heard Bobby’s side of the story. And saw the video. Darling I’m so sorry I didn’t know he filmed it. Melchior said I can get him arrested for spreading the video against my permission but the damage is done. I hurt you. The one constant in my life.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry, I would do anything to try and make things up to you, I’d even tell my dad. But I know nothing can measure up to my betrayal. I pray to God (on my knees and everything) that you have read my letter after ignoring everything else I have done to try and contact you. I just need you to understand even a little bit why I did what I did. I’m not making excuses I swear I just need you to know and I’m so alone. I can’t talk to anyone anymore.

And I miss you. I guess I never really understood the concept of missing someone. I'd go away for a week and not see my mum. When I came back she'd ask me if I missed her and I'd reply yes because that's what she wanted to hear. I don't think I did though because I knew she was there. I'd message her or ring her at least once a day and I _knew_ she was there. You're not. I miss you. I miss you and I understand what it means. It's that feeling when everything's gone wrong and I just want to talk to you about anything everything, what you had for breakfast, the meaning of life. I want to hear you tell me I matter and that you believe in me because you were the only one who could get me to believe that. But I can't. And I know it’s all my fault. And still I’m so selfish. You deserve better. Go be happy darling.

I’m sorry Ernst.

Yours Forever and Always,

Hanschen Rilow


End file.
